The Fault in the Uchiha
by RHawkeye
Summary: Some fates are inevitable, regardless of the decisions we make. Itachi Uchiha was able to avert the clan massacre - now years later, the Uchiha clan lives peacefully in Konoha. All seems idyllic until the Clan Heir becomes terminally ill; now Sasuke needs to come to terms with loosing his idolised brother and the responsibility of Clan Heir, whilst Sakura is Itachi's aSaku


There it was again. The harsh hacking noise which had intermittently haunted the Uchiha mansion for the last hour. Uchiha Mikoto lay quietly in bed, ears pricked, trying to decipher where the noise was coming from. She sat up, careful not to disturb her slumbering husband, Uchiha Fugaku was not a man you woke without good cause. Her eyes traversed their expansive bedroom, it was dark -possibly around three o'clock in the morning, so her adjusting eyes could only make out the shadowed shapes of their wooden built-in wardrobes, the foot of their kingsize bed and the dressing table. To the south of the room were two large shoji screens which opened onto a narrow veranda and private courtyard garden.

Gently, she swung her feet over the side of the mattress, feeling the soft fur of the rug between her toes as she rose steadily to her full height. She reached for her silk dressing gown at the end of the bed and pulled it around her narrow frame before adjusting her hair to ensure the wisps that had wriggled free during her fitful sleep were now secured again. Mikoto padded to the shoji screen, which led to the internal corridor, and bent to pull her house slippers on. She shot a glance over to her husband, who had momentarily stirred before settling back into the bedding and succumbed to a soundless sleep.

There it was again. Though this time, with her position beside the screen, she could hear it clearer and it sounded eerily like a bad cough. Perhaps one of the boys was sick? Or hungover? A small smile tugged at her lips. Despite both being grown men now, they were still her little boys. She pushed the screen back just enough to step out onto the hard wooden floor of the corridor, kneeling, she closed the screen to the master bedroom and then scuffled down the hallway towards the main body of the house.

She passed two more internal doors before pausing at the third screen, she knelt once more and very gently pulled the screen back a fraction of an inch so that she could peer inside. Similar to the room she shared with her husband, this room had two wide shoji screen doors which separated the internal space from a small private courtyard garden. The Shoji screens were half glass so plenty of moonlight flooded into the room, illuminating the desk, wardrobe and double bed in iridescent light. Her trained mother's eye picked out the shape of her sleeping baby boy splayed on the bed. Sasuke's torso was bare and his face was turned ever so slightly towards her, his face a peaceful mask as he slept deeply. She smiled looking at him, his nineteen-year-old face still so similar to that little boy she had held in her arms, what felt like, only moments ago.

Not wishing to intrude further on his privacy she shut the door quietly and straightened herself. Mikoto glanced down the dark hallway towards the back bedrooms. If Sasuke was asleep, that could only mean-

Her thoughts were cut off by another, louder, hacking noise. Feeling a sudden sense of unease and urgency Mikoto picked up the bottom of her sleeping Yukata to allow her more movement, she shuffled hurriedly along the hallway and around a darkened corner. Before her were three screen doors, the one on the left led to a large spare bedroom, reserved for official guests of the Clan Head, and the right hand side room was that of her eldest son. Itachi's screen door was ajar and his house slippers were askew, as if they'd been hurriedly kicked out of the way. She peered inside questioningly, only to find that his blankets were crumpled on the floor, as if someone had haphazardly flung themselves from the bed in a desperate attempt to escape the bedding, and the pillows were thrown about. One of the shoji screen doors on the opposite side of the room, which also led into the mansion's private courtyard garden, was ajar, allowing a soft night breeze to filter through the place. A frown settled over Mikoto's features; Itachi's room was always meticulously ordered and regimented, even whilst he slept.

Another brutal hacking noise pierced the tranquillity of the night's silence and this time it emanated from the middle shoji screen – the family bathroom. Once it had calmed down, she reached out and laid the palm of her hand flat on the screen door, momentarily unsure of how to approach him. Itachi was her son, her little boy, but for years he had been an enigma to the family. He was not easy to approach, even to his mother, and he often was aloof or detached from them. Mikoto had often found it hard not having a more personal relationship with her eldest but it was something she had learnt to accept. He was the Clan Heir and there were certain expectations of him – least of all from Fugaku as the Clan Head. It would not have been acceptable to coddle or baby him when he needed to be trained and honed to be a great leader. More so, when he was identified as the talented and exceptional young shinobi he was. So Mikoto found solace and connection with her younger son, the little boy who had time to spend with her and accept her doting motherly love without the troubles of expectations and obligations.

'I'm fine mother.' Came the curt command from the other side of the door. Of course he knew she was there. She hadn't hidden her chakra and Itachi would have heard her getting out of bed and moving through the house.

'You sound sick, Itachi,' she whispered through the door.

A pause. 'It's just a routine cough, something I must have picked up from my last mission with ANBU.'

Her eyebrows knitted together further but she didn't move, 'I will get you some water and the cough syrup.'

'That will not be necessary,' came his abrupt response, 'thank you for your consideration. I will be better in the morning, please return to bed, Mother.'

Mikoto pulled her hand back towards her chest, the concern not wavering from the pit of her stomach. Her facial expression grew more serious and she glanced towards his bedroom, surveying the unusual distressed ensemble of the bedding. 'Itachi, perha-'

'Mother.' He cut in sternly, 'Please lea-' another hacking episode, except this time it lasted longer and she could clearly hear the sound of fluid being brought up. He was vomiting and then there was a sudden resounding thud from the behind the shoji screen door.

The noise shot through her and, with Motherly instinct kicking in, she reached immediately for the screen door and pulled it back. Itachi had not bothered to lock it due to the late hour and she easily managed to pull it back allowing her to see clearly into the bathroom.

She gasped at what she saw.

The toilet seat was decorated with flecks of red. On the opposite side of the toilet bowl, between the sink and the bath, was Itachi. He lay gasping, still spluttering and hacking as tendrils of deep red ran down his chin. The bags under his eyes were deep, indicating his fatigue, and his hands were marred with bloody smears from where he had been wiping his mouth.

She sprang forward and hoisted him into her kneeling lap. Her shaky hands holding him firmly to her whilst on hand cupped his face. The gurgle he let out, right before coughing again to allow more blood to splatter her yukata, sliced right through her like a knife and she turned his head to allow the fluid to drain away.

'F-fugaku,' she said in shock. She then shook her head firmly and yelled, 'FUGAKU!'

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she watched in shock as Itachi pulled himself from her lap and sat forward, coughing again violently onto the floor. A hand over his mouth tried to stem the flow of blood but it was no use, it dribbled onto the white tiles below.

The pounding of feet on the wood flooring behind Mikoto could not come quick enough and within seconds her husband was leering over them both in the doorway to the family bathroom. She looked up at him from her place behind Itachi, her hands rubbing his back and holding his long hair. Her pale face was a picture of confusion and horror as she stared helplessly at her husband, 'I-Itachi,' she said, 'He's sick.' Was all she could manage.

It only took Fugaku a moment to take in the blood splatter on her Yukata, the toilet seat and now the floor. He unceremoniously pulled Mikoto to her feet and deposited her in the door frame out of the way. She brought a hand to her mouth and let out a choked sob as she stumbled backwards from the momentum of being moved. She came into contact with something firm behind her and when she turned she was staring into the face of her youngest son. Sasuke brought his hands up to hold her shoulders and the two of them stood in stoic silence as they watched Fugaku and Itachi with matching expressions of deep concern.

Fugaku bent down beside Itachi and pulled his son backwards slightly so that he could see his face, 'Father…' Itachi managed with a gurgle before spluttering again.

Fugaku's eyes hardened with concern and he hoisted the boy up to stand beside him. Itachi's frame leaning heavily on his for support, his breathing came out in ragged gasps and his skin was pale and clammy. He turned them to face Mikoto and Sasuke in the hallway. Fugaku fixed Sasuke with a hard look. 'Sasuke. Watch over your Mother. I am taking Itachi to the hospital.' He commanded.

Sasuke nodded obediently, the concern and fear not leaving his face as his grip tightened on his mother's shoulders. It was a vain attempt to reassure both himself and his ailing Mother. Fugaku and Itachi disappeared in a poof of smoke leaving them in the eerie silence of the Uchiha Mansion.

At the hospital, Itachi was instantly rushed through triage, his condition clearly warranted emergency help and it was not long before he was on a hospital bed surrounded by medical staff. 'Uchiha, Itachi. Aged 24.' A nurse was reciting at his side whilst annotating a medical chart, she made swift notes of his vitals whilst another nurse read them out as he attached the equipment to Itachi's quivering body.

The male nurse leaned towards him and clearly stated, 'Uchiha, you're severly dehydrated, I'm going to set you up on a drip – there may be a scratch sensation from your arm when I insert the needle.' He picked up Itachi's left hand and laid it neatly on the bed at his side. Itachi nodded in acceptance and then watched as he wiped the back of Itachi's hand down with an antiseptic cleanser. The needle and valve went in without an issue and Itachi's tired eyes did not leave him as the nurse checked the drip cables and bag at the bedside.

Itachi felt drained and very tired. His head lolled back on the pillows and his eyes glanced over the metal basin that had been placed in his lap to catch any more fluids he brought up. The coughing and blood had subsided, however, his chest was tight and he found himself wheezing heavily for air. As the medical staff began to clear from his bedside, he could now make out the concerned face of his father lingering on the periphery of the hospital room.

Fugaku used the opportunity to move up alongside Itachi's bedside and look down at his eldest son. He made no move to hold Itachi's hand or to make any attempt at physical comfort, but Itachi didn't expect him to. Fugaku would no doubt see this as a moment of weakness and reprimand him once they left the hospital, Itachi sighed heavily and closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to his exhaustion.

Fugaku watched as his Clair Heir fell asleep, the unnerving rattles of his laboured breaths filling the Uchiha Clan's private hospital room. An uncertain and frightening feeling coiled in the pit of Fugaku's stomach, he straightened himself and placed a hand on the side of the hospital bed. Inches away from Itachi's sleeping hand. Despite his carefully schooled features and years of training in dignity and honour as the Clan Head, Fugaku started to feel his trained facade crack under the stress of his worry as a father. He studied Itachi's distressed features and listened to his laboured breathing. He had never seen his prodigal son this ill before and it unnerved him to his very core.

A small voice in the back of his head whispered uneasy truths. This was not a casual cough Itachi had picked up with ANBU. Ofcourse, Shinobi got sick like all other humans but this was different. This had a sinister aura. Fugaku swallowed uneasily and dragged in a shaky breath whilst he remained at Itachi's bedside.

An hour had passed with Fugaku waiting patiently at Itachi's bedside. The monitor's peeped quietly and Itachi had stirred twice to cough blood into his little metal dish before drifting back to sleep again.

The door to the room opened and in walked the Attending on duty that night, Uchiha Rin, followed by the male nurse from earlier. Fugaku recognised her from the compound, she was widely liked and respected as a doctor and as Obito's wife. She walked directly over to Itachi's bedside, 'Good Morning Master Uchiha.' She said and pulled Itachi's chart out from under her arm, she double checked the vitals – comparing those she read to those found on his chart from an hour ago. 'How has he been whilst you've been here?' she asked Fugaku.

'He coughed up blood twice,' he motioned quietly to the pan at Itachi's side. The movement was slightly shaky and unsure. Fugaku's eyes didn't leave his son's sleeping face.

Rin nodded and picked the dish up, passing it to the male nurse behind her and smiling faintly, 'please retrieve a clean plan for the patient, thank you.' She then turned back to Itachi and proceeded to conduct a visual exam of his sleeping form, careful not to wake him.

Fugaku watched her intently, as if any moment now her movements would miraculously cure Itachi's ailing form. She nodded to herself and stepped back from the bed, Rin turned to face Fugaku straight on. 'For now, all of his vitals are stable and it appears his coughing has slowed. I believe the best thing for him now is to sleep.'

'Do you know what's wrong with him?' blurted Fugaku.

Rin straightened her posture and placed her hands into the pockets on her white coat, 'right now, it could be any number of ailments. We have sent several blood samples for testing, we expect the results back by midday tomorrow. I will discuss them with Itachi once he is awake and comfortable.' She finished the sentence with a curt nod at Fugaku, indicating this was not up for discussion.

Fugaku regarded Rin levelly before gently nodding in return and turning his gaze back to Itachi.

'Perhaps,' began Rin, 'you should go home and finish sleeping yourself. He will be safe here with us and I imagine your family are concerned by what has happened tonight.'

Fugaku chewed over her suggestion in his head, he supposed that was true. The image of Sasuke and Mikoto's faces as he left with Itachi flashed across his mind. They looked so scared and unsure by what they had seen. Perhaps Rin was right, he should return to console his wife that Itachi was now safe and being seen to by Konoha's finest.

His mind made up, he gave Rin a nod of acceptance and turned towards the door. Fugaku threw a glance over his shoulder back at Itachi's slumbering form, concern coiling in the pit of his stomach, before leaving for the Uchiha Mansion.


End file.
